


Under all that lameness ...

by hazelandglasz



Series: Tumblr Klaine Ficlets [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:56:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17287064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: Blaine is the nerdy IT guyKurt is the cool copywriterCan I make it any more obvious?





	Under all that lameness ...

“Under all that lameness there’s a tiny dot of cool in you. Very tiny. Microscopic, really.”

Blaine looks up from under the desk where he’s trying to find out what went wrong with Kurt Hummel, resident Badass Copywriter, and his computer.

“Beg your pardon?”

Kurt’s eyes–and their beautiful, mesmerizing color that shouldn’t be natural and yet is–are slightly glazy when they meet Blaine’s. “Everybody thinks you’re just an IT guy, meek and without any flavor–”

“Now listen here–”

“–but I see you, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt continues as if Blaine never interrupted him. “I see beyond your bowties and your rolled pants and that scrumptious ass of yours and do you know what I see?”

Blaine raises one eyebrow. “A tiny dot of coolness?”

Kurt raises his glass in the air. “Exactly!” he exclaims, some of the liquid in the glass sloshing over.

Yep, that’s not coffee, governor.

“As flattered as I am by your coolness assessment,” Blaine says as he stands up, Kurt’s eyes following his every move, “I shall bid you adieu and return to my desk to see what is the problem from the inside.”

“Kurt would love to let you check him from the inside,” Santana slurs, dropping herself on top of the cubicle’s wall with a grin.

Blaine can feel his face heating up but he manages to stutter his way to the elevator without making too much of a mess. When the elevator’s doors close, Kurt’s eyes are still on him, intent and bright.

—

The next morning, mind still reeling over the discoveries of the past evening, Blaine doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings.

Getting into the elevator is a feat, meaning that he bumps his elbow into quite a lot of bellies and arms around him.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he mutters, returning his attention to his phone.

On the 5th floor, most people get out and Blaine manages to snag a spot by the wall.

“Um, excuse me?”

Blaine looks up immediately at the sound of Kurt’s voice.

Kurt looks–well, he looks like he hasn’t completely sobered up yet. The shadows under his eyes have their own shadows, and his hair flops over his forehead like it has given up trying to stay upright.

“Blaine, I–I, um, I wanted to apologize for my drunken behavior,” Kurt says in one breath. “I said things I probably shouldn’t have and–”

Blaine looks around the elevator and shushes Kurt. “Not here,” he whispers, grabbing Kurt’s hand at the next stop and pulling him along. They nearly run through the hall towards IT and it’s only when they get at the door that Blaine realizes he never let go of Kurt’s hand.

Then again, a voice that suspiciously sounds like Wes says, Kurt didn’t let go either.

“Now nobody will eavesdrop on us,” Blaine says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go on, I’m listening.”

Kurt clears his throat before mirroring Blaine’s stance. “As I said, I wanted to, um, apologize for my behavior. There is absolutely no excuse for the way I, um …”

“Ridiculed me?”

The blush on Kurt’s cheeks intensifies. “Precisely. And though there is no excuse, I hope you’ll find it in your heart to accept my apology.”

“Why should I?” Blaine asks, allowing himself a moment to bask in the moment of superficial superiority. “You copywriters always look down on us IT guys, when you are even acknowledging us.”

“But–”

“And when you do, it’s only to treat us like dirt, like we’re only here to do your bidding. You may regret telling me what you said, but you can’t deny that you thought every word, Kurt.”

Kurt sighs, shoulders sagging. “You’re right,” he replies softly, “but not entirely. I meant it when I said that underneath your geeky exterior, I think you are really cool. It didn’t come out as the compliment I intended because I was protecting myself and thus lashed out–”

“And you were drunk like a baba.”

Kurt snorts a laugh. “Accurate description. But what I’m trying to say is that … I just think you’re a really cool guy, Blaine, and I–I really want to get to know you better.”

Blaine looks at him, at this man he has been observing ever since he was hired, tentative and shy at first but finding his place and finding his voice, this man who also has layers upon layers of walls and protection but …

“I see you, Kurt Hummel, under all that assumed coolness.”

Kurt looks up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Come again?”

“Under all that coolness, there is a tiny dot of interesting in you. Very tiny.” Blaine pauses, cocking one eyebrow. “Microscopic, really.”

Kurt rolls his eyes but still smiles at him. “What would you say if I offered to take  off some of those layers so we can get to really know each other?”

A vision of removing some layers of a more literal kind passes through Blaine’s brain and threatens to short-circuit it.

“I’d say that’s an offer I could be interested in.”

“Let’s start with a coffee?”

“Lead the way.”

\---

One apology coffee turns into a weekly coffee, turns into a biweekly event they are both looking forward to.

Wes bemoans the loss of his best friend and apprentice, to which Blaine replies that as much as they would both very much love Life to be so, they are not Jedi and Wes is simply his senior, not his master.

“I would begrudge your word, young padawan--”

“Wes ...”

“--but how could I stand in good conscience in the way of looove?”

“Wes, I--,” Blaine starts, face heating up.  “This is not Love, it’s just ... Kurt is a very good friend. He’s easy to talk to, witty, funny, charming ...”

“Gorgeous,” Trent supplies from his desk without even looking up. 

“Well, yeah, but--”

“And he knows your coffee order.”

“So do I!”

“Hm-hm. What is  _my_ coffee order?”

“Trent that’s cheating, you order something else every week.”

“So does Kurt,” Trent replies with a Cheshire cat smile, finally looking up from his screen.

Blaine opens his mouth to retort something, anything, but no word come to mind. Instead, pictures of the past few weeks spent getting to know Kurt flash by.

“Oh.”

Blaine drops himself in Wes’ chair. Wes leans forward.

“Don’t tell me you only realized that what you’re feeling for our genius copywriter is something of the romantic kind?”

Blaine nods.

“Oy vey.”

Blaine jumps out of the chair and rushes to the elevator.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to tell him.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Wes says, grabbing his wrist. “You are not about to rush to the Edit to make a declaration of love while Kurt is working, in front of all the other penpushers.” Wes and Trent tsk in sync. “It would be in poor taste.”

“What do you want me to do? Prepare a musical number, complete with a shower of petals?”

Trent raises one eyebrow and pats his cheek. “You live for that kind of drama and you know it, but may I suggest something a little bit more to your speed?”

Blaine sighs and sits back into the chair. “I’m listening.”

\--

Kurt is considering running away with a circus (it is still a thing, shut up) or simply finding a new path.

This article he has to write for, oh Lord, tomorrow morning, just doesn’t want to be written.

No, instead of words, images of Blaine in his latest outfit fill his mind in all its glorious details.

The way the red of his bowtie made his eyes look even more amber than usual...

Or the way his jeans revealed his ankle just so and Kurt felt like a Victorian hero ...

Kurt shakes his head and tries to focus, but as if called by Kurt’s thoughts, Blaine’s icon appears in a corner of his screen.

“ _Hi_.”

Kurt starts smiling in spite of his earlier frustration. “ _Hi_.”

  * _B: I have an idea.  
_
  * K: I’m all ears.
  * _B: Why don’t we work on something together?  
_
  * K: Something?
  * _B: Like a column about the normalization of geek culture?  
_
  * K: O.o ok?
  * _B: Like, under all of its lameness ...  
_
  * K: You’re never going to let me off the hook, are you?
  * _B: Never.  
_
  * K: But why me? You could do it with other journalists, more seasoned ones, why do you want me to be your duet partner?
  * _B:...  
_



And for the longest moment, those three dots keep on appearing and disappearing from Kurt’s screen. 

And again.

And pause.

And again.

And ...

  * _B: Kurt, have you ever told yourself that you’ll never find someone who understands you, who sees you for who you really are, flaws and all, and still finds you interesting enough to hang around?_



Kurt knows better than to interrupt, and his breath is caught in his throat.

  * _B: And then there is a moment, when you say to yourself, “Oh, there you are, I’ve been looking for you forever and I didn’t even know it.”_



Blaine keeps on typing but Kurt rushes to the elevator. His smile hurts his cheeks and his heart is valiantly trying to run faster than him, but he cannot let Blaine finish this speech via intraweb.

He slams open the door to the IT room and Blaine practically jumps out of his chair.

“Kurt, I--”

“Say it again.”

Blaine looks at him for a moment before smiling fondly. He walks the small gap between them to take Kurt’s hand. “There is a moment when you say to yourself, Oh, there you are,” he repeats, voice growing stronger as he goes, “I’ve been looking for you forever.”

Kurt squeezes Blaine’s hand and takes the final step in Blaine’s direction. He’s so close now that he can count Blaine’s eyelashes as they flutter and Blaine closes his eyes and leans forward and--

Oh.

Kurt reaches with his free hand to cup Blaine’s jaw, tilting it just a little bit to the side and--

_Ooh._

“Wow,” Kurt says breathlessly when they part. Blaine smiles at him, taking one small step backward.

They’re still holding hands, and Kurt never wants to let go.

“Don’t you have something to tell me back?”

“I thought I was?”


End file.
